


Staring into the Heavens

by Mx_Dragon



Series: Reversed Sun [2]
Category: Persona 2
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Obsession, Praise Kink, Schizophrenia, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Dragon/pseuds/Mx_Dragon
Summary: After their first encounter, King Leo fantasizes about winning Joker's approval even more than vengeance and a new world.
Relationships: Kurosu Jun/Sudou Tatsuya
Series: Reversed Sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747084
Kudos: 8





	Staring into the Heavens

At the time, King Leo hadn't known why he'd left that note at GOLD Gym: _I'll be waiting at the Sky Museum in Kounan_. A direct challenge, nothing like the cryptic riddles that had led their enemies to the last two bombings. He had done it because the voices had urged him to, and the years had taught him not to disobey that tone of premonition.

But now that he'd seen Joker's odd, disconcerting moment of blankness, Leo understood. Not that he questioned Joker's competence, exactly, nor feared for his sanity—he could never doubt a demigod. The Masked Circle merely had no more use for their prey. No longer any reason to let them...distract his master. So why continue this game of cat and mouse? It was time to pull the noose tight. This final message was a straightforward invitation to their doom.

So, late one night, he had gone to Kounan and broken into the Sky Museum to prepare. He hadn't told anyone else about this. He would bring Ixquic tomorrow morning, just before the doors reopened and the schoolchildren arrived for their tour.

Really, he didn't need all this planning. He could handle those five brats in a fair fight, especially with Ixquic's assistance. But he wasn't going to take that risk. The slight chafe to his pride was worth the guarantee of victory. And burning down such a grand building would be its own fun.

As he set up the timed charges on each floor, his shoulders shook with laughter. After ten long years, he and Joker would have their revenge. He would make the Witch, the Cursed Star, and all the rest of them suffer for their crimes. And as the inferno seared their flesh from their bones, they would watch Sumaru City explode into ruins. They would die knowing they had failed. Their very last thought would be despair.

The voices hissed in delight, speaking over each other in their frenzy until Leo could barely tell one word from another. _Soon, take it, burn it all, kill kill drag out their entrails..._

Clenching his teeth, Leo tried to block out their seething roar and focus on his delicate work. The timing of this flare-up was annoying, although not disastrous. Usually the voices chittered and grumbled just under his perception. They were almost never completely silent, but where they had once plagued him, made it impossible to think straight or do anything but obey their will—or convulse and claw at himself and scream with the effort of resisting—they now registered only as a faint, droning susurrus, like a conversation overheard through a wall, rarely surfacing into intelligibility.

Another gift that Joker, in his generosity, had blessed him with. Or maybe it had been the source of the voices themselves that showed him mercy. Maybe, for his whole life, the voices had just been pushing him towards where he belonged, and their duty had ended once he took his place at Joker's side. Whatever the reason was, Leo had soon accepted this garbled murmur as his new normal, and he'd never stopped being grateful for the reprieve. Even if it didn't always hold.

_Split the Maiden's chest and watch her heart stop_ , the voices intoned.  _Win me the world._

Almost unconsciously, Leo nodded, not quite understanding, but trusting, letting himself be swept up in the euphoria of victory soon to come. He didn't know how to give anything to the voices—his other self, his guide and tormentor, his oldest friend and bitterest enemy, for whom the In Lak'ech had been named. But he could certainly rout the Masked Circle's enemies. Slaughter them and raze their strongholds and proudly drag back their charred, bloodied corpses. Revenge as a sacrificial offering. The ashes on which Joker would build their new ideal. They would put this fallen world out of its misery so that it could be reborn.

And what would his master do when Leo brought him their heads? Joker would surely praise him for his initiative. _Excellent work_ , he would say. _Thanks to you, our ascent to paradise is assured. I always knew I could rely on you, my lion_ —no, he would call him by his real name. He would touch Leo's arm—no, he would take off his mask to show his proud, affectionate smile—and ask in his most indulgent voice what boon Leo desired. And this time Leo would be honest, brave, and ask for more than just a kiss.

The memory pulsed heat down his spine. Joker's soft lips and tongue caressing his. Joker's hard, hot flesh filling his mouth, fingers tangled in his hair, lithe body trembling beneath his hands, gasps and moans and whimpers of _Tatsuya, Tatsuya...!_

Leo licked his lips and found his mouth dry. He hadn't even realized he'd been breathing faster. How long had he been just standing here staring into space? And his face felt flushed, too. What was wrong with him, getting so worked up over something so foolish?

But it was too late. The thought of Joker's attentions had already gotten him hard. Once he'd invited the images in, he couldn't chase them away again.

Leo growled in frustration. This had been happening with embarrassing regularity lately. He had always been fascinated by Joker, utterly devoted to him, but after that night, his feelings had sharpened a thousandfold. And now that he'd experienced Joker's touch—his deft hands caressing him, closed tight around his cock, pumping him to orgasm—he couldn't get the feeling out of his mind.

From the moment Joker had first appeared in his asylum room, his master's presence had quieted the seething, maddening roar in Leo's head. But he'd been shocked to find that Joker's touch banished the voices completely, leaving only animal hunger. He'd felt almost feverish—foggy and achy and hot, his limbs heavy, his focus narrowed down to a pinprick. Intoxicated, he had known clarity. Captive, he had been free. His world had been simple and blissful, with neither past nor future. Leo had become just a thoughtless creature of sensation. All he'd known had been Joker's body under his hands and mouth. All he'd wanted was the warm weight of his master's attention. To serve well, and to have his service acknowledged—nothing else had mattered. Silence, blessed silence.

A peace that had ended the moment Joker had let go.

Leo didn't feel ashamed of his desires, exactly. His drive to please Joker wasn't weakness. His loyalty and admiration were both a sign of his purity and what purified him in the first place. It was only natural for a king to serve his god. But the sheer strength of these sudden new urges...such ridiculous, perverted thoughts were still embarrassing and distracting and he still tried to keep them at bay while he was working. Now they were flooding through his mind.

However...he wasn't working anymore, was he? The museum was dark and still; his task was done, with a few hours to spare. And it was unlikely he could fall asleep like this, anyway. Why not take the chance for relief?

He shrugged off his long black coat, draped it over a nearby bench, and sat down. He wanted to just jerk himself senseless, but he knew that the longer he held out, the better it would feel in the end—and the longer he could go without needing to do it again. So he gathered up what little patience he could. He stroked his cock as slowly as he could bear, building up his excitement, second by second, feeling the warm tingle of arousal spread through his limbs and pool deep in the pit of his stomach, gradually deepening into an ache.

Leo tipped his head back and closed his eye to imagine Joker's gaze on him. No masks—he wanted his master to meet his hungry stare and never look away. The tiny hairs on his neck and arms prickled and stood on end.

The fantasy Joker bent close, one hand on Leo's shoulder, and ran his fingertips up Leo's straining cock. _I'm proud of you, Tatsuya,_ he murmured. _You've done so well. Are you enjoying your reward?_ Another maddeningly gentle stroke. _Just say the word, and it will feel so good..._

Leo's breath hitched—God, his self-control was already fraying. He was so weak. Biting his lip, he swiped his thumb through the slickness beading at the slit and spread it over the head, squeezing a little, rubbing its underside. He had gotten even wetter than this while servicing his master. A tiny part of him was humiliated at how easily Joker had driven him crazy, but mostly Leo just burned for him. And it was fitting, anyway. The world at his feet, and himself at Joker's feet...that was how things ought to be.

He could almost feel Joker's breath on his lips. _Give in. Let go._ The imaginary voice had turned husky, taken on a note of command. _Don't hold back anymore. I want you to come all over yourself. If I like what I see, maybe I'll even let you get me off afterwards._

Leo's restraint snapped. He'd never been able to keep up this teasing for long, and fantasizing about Joker made it impossible. He gripped himself tight and set a feverish pace, pretending that the fine fabric sliding over his skin belonged to Joker's glove instead of his own.

Joker swallowed his groan of relief in a deep kiss. In reality, Leo pressed his free hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds that echoed in the large, empty exhibit room. Joker straddled his lap; Leo spread his thighs a little further, rocked his hips a little faster. He wanted his master's body warm and alive against his, its solid weight on top of him, proof that this was real.

No more patience. Joker pushed his own cock into his hand alongside Leo's, rubbing together, hard and hot and sticky. Joker's panting moans mingled with Leo's as he milked them both with quick, firm strokes, squeezing so tightly that Leo could feel every vein of his master's flesh, every twitch of his excitement.

Leo's breaths came wet and broken. He felt insatiable, overwhelmed by greed, powerless to stop the flood of carnal fantasies that Joker would surely never grant in reality. A demigod wouldn't be controlled by such base urges, let alone allow Leo to relieve his filthiest pent-up desires all over him. But Leo could still wish for it, and in his desperation let himself forget the taint of blasphemy in what he was doing. He could pretend that Joker had called upon him specifically to reward his most capable, devoted champion—or simply ordered Leo to pleasure him, to service his divine body. As the highest-ranking mortal in the Masked Circle, it only made sense for that privilege to fall to him. It was his duty and his right to give Joker whatever he asked for. He would take such good care of his master. Fulfill all his wishes, as Joker had once done for him. And Joker would praise and touch him in return, caress and kiss and slake his aching lust and purr, _Tatsuya will belong to me forever._

“Oh, fuck, please,” Leo rasped aloud. He bit deep into his free hand, not to keep silent—he had no hope of that anymore, and even less shame—but just to feel something under his teeth and tongue. In his frenzy, the tiny shock of pain just fanned him hotter. Groaning with impatient need, he squirmed and rolled his hips, already so agonizingly close, so ready to unravel.

God, he was dying. He would die if he couldn't burrow back between Joker's thighs again. He'd do anything to repeat that night. No amount of jerking off could replicate the voice and feel and smell of his master. Hell, if the deal were offered, he might have given up this temporary relief in exchange for simply being touched every day—Joker caressing his cheek, fingers running through his hair, gently tugging, gently scratching, that shivery hypnotic feeling like a river of sparks scattering through his veins.

By now he was frantic with lust, every breath edged in a whine, and he wanted to be petted and praised but he also wanted to eat out Joker's ass until he screamed Leo's secret name and then bite him and fuck him and dig bruises into his hips no no he couldn't forbidden but he _needed_ it, needed to taste him, fill his mouth with Joker's lovely fair flesh, mark him up and hear him cry out in pleasure and know for sure that Joker belonged to him.

And what if Joker asked him to? Then everything was permissible. He could be his master's prize stud and keep him well-fucked. Sink up to the hilt into Joker's body, so deep, so hot and tight and safe. Feel his master's insides grip his cock like Joker owned him, like he would never let go, and pound into him until he sobbed with overstimulation. Or Joker could just take him—just order him onto his knees or his back like the servant he was. He didn't care, he didn't give a damn how it happened as long as Joker came and let him come and _looked at him…_

A hoarse cry ripped from his throat. Leo's back arched and he bucked hard as his orgasm finally slammed through him, his cock pulsing in his hand, his muscles spasming. He slumped back against the wall, panting, twitching with the last aftershocks.

Eye still shut, he licked his fingers clean, imagining Joker's hand at his lips, Joker's bitter seed on his tongue, Joker's silken voice in his ear: _This is exactly how I want you. I'm the only one who appreciates you like you deserve. Who's never tried to change you, who treasures you just the way you are. My Tatsuya, first among servants, my most worthy...burn them all and ascend by my side..._

He'd been righter than he knew that night, when he'd confessed that nothing would ever satisfy him. He wanted all of Joker, over and over and over. He was trying to fill a void that had been growing for his entire life; making up for so much lost time was impossible. His body would give out before his desire did. As it struck him that his hunger had no end—that he would forever be starving, clawing for more, no matter how much Joker indulged him—Leo felt a strange pang of desperate despair. But he could no more stop himself chasing after what he craved than he could stop breathing.

Perhaps soul-ease awaited him in Paradise. In the meantime, he wouldn't turn up his nose at scraps while he waited for a feast. While he led Hell to scorch the heavens and strike the stars from their moorings. And then...then there would be nothing but to raise Xibalba and leave this tainted world behind.

The End of Nahui-Ollin drew nearer with every breath. A freshly reborn world of ideals, of desires made reality, lay within their grasp. All he had to do was reach out. Seize his dream.

 _Paradise, paradise,_ the voices sang. Leo could already hear the laughter of flames.


End file.
